Absolution
by Theoretical-Optimist
Summary: George struggles with overwhelming guilt in the aftermath of Fred's death. Written for Round 10 of The Houses Competition. WARNING- Alcohol use/abuse, depression, survivor's guilt


House: Gryffindor

Category: Themed (Goodbye)

Prompt: Take Me to Church by Hozier

Word Count: 1108

Beta: TartCat207 and Kurotsuba Thanks!

-AN Listen to Take Me to Church as you read this. Actually, listen to it frequently because its an amazing song!

* * *

"Fill'er up, Aberforth," slurred George. He wildly swung his hand across the bar top, smashing the glass of water that the remaining Dumbledore had placed before him earlier.

Aberforth shook his head. "I'm cutting you off. Go home. Go to your family."

"NO! I need it. Just one more." He tried to summon a bottle from the shelf behind the bar but his wand laid inert in his hand.

"What you need is to sober up. You can't keep going on like this. You're in here every Sunday. It's getting more and more bleak." Aberforth placed a strong hand on George's shoulder. The inebriated wizard futilely tried to escape his grasp. "Go home to your family, George."

George shook his head so quickly that he felt like he might be sick. "I can't," he moaned. "I need it. I need to drink."

"Why?"

"Because," he muttered.

"That's not good enough. I know you are hurting. We all lost someone-"

"I DIDN'T LOSE _SOMEONE_!" George roared. The few remaining bar patrons scattered upon the outburst. "I DIDN'T LOSE _SOMEONE!_ I LOST MYSELF. FRED IS GONE AND IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME."

"Survivor's guilt can be a terrible burden. I know better than most," Aberforth attempted to comfort the now raving man.

"I'm dealing with it. Get me another drink," George ordered.

"No. I won't serve you another drop. You are an addict."

"So what if I am? The only peace I have is when I'm drunk. It's the only time I don't hear his voice in my head. Hear the accusing whispers. The only heaven I have is when I'm finally alone."

"You're not meant to be alone, George. Don't make the same mistake I did and throw away the family you've got left because you can't bear your loss."

"I'll spell it out for you. I'll tell you all my sins and you can spit lies back in my face. My mother can't stand the sight of me. She's better off when I'm not around. My father refuses to say my name. I should have died that night. It would be better if I did. If I keep drinking myself into a stupor, it'll get me one step closer to where I need to be. I'll give it my life."

"George-"

"-Now you tell me how it's not so bad. How Fred would want me to keep on living. Without him. Go on, lie to me, Aberforth," George chuckled humorlessly.

"You think I'll just lie to you? No, I don't suppose you'll believe anything I tell you right now. But you're coming with me."

Aberforth gruffly pulled George from his bar stool. The younger man swayed on unsteady feet and would have toppled over if not for the firm grip on his arm.

"I'm not going home."

"I'm not taking you home. I'm taking you where you need to go." Aberforth concentrated on their destination and apparated away.

* * *

When they landed in a wide field, George's legs gave way. He fell to his knees and emptied the sloshing contents of his stomach onto the ground. Aberforth waited while George retched and spewed, his fragile body shaking with each convulsion.

Eventually the tremors stopped. George slowly rose from the ground and glanced around. Scowling he growled, "Why did you bring me here?"

"You need absolution. Alcohol will never give you any. Like it or not, are you here. And he," Aberforth gestured to the headstone in the distance, "is not." Aberforth lowered his voice to a whisper. "Talk to him."

Grumbling, George trudge up the small hill. When he was close enough to read the engraved stone he froze.

 _Here lies Frederick Gideon Weasley_

 _Beloved Son, Brother, Trickster, and Friend_

 _~Mischief Managed~_

"Hi, Freddie," George tried to keep his voice level. "I, uh, I guess I don't know what I'm doing here. Aberforth made me come. Meddling, nosy, old bat."

He turned around to glare across the field at Aberforth. The wizard was nowhere to be seen. George was all alone. No Aberforth. No friends. No family. No alcohol. No Fred.

"What the hell am I doing, Fred? I don't know how to do this without you. I would give my life for yours. You would do the same for me. And I guess that's the problem; you already did. I hate this so much- everything about me reminds me of you. Who is George without Fred?"

George let the tears flow freely down his cheeks. The salty tracks felt cleansing. Humanising.

"You'd hate it that I'm crying over you." He laughed through the sniffles. "You'd have hated your funeral. Mum would have had a fit if I set off any pranks. It was boring and somber. Damn it, Fred. You would have wanted people to giggle at your grave."

George dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against the cold stone. He traced his fingers along his twin's name.

"Why'd you have to leave me here, Freddie? Why couldn't I go with you? I know it's not my fault that you're gone and that I'm still here. But I feel so damn guilty. I was so angry. I wished it were perfect poncey Percy who had died in your place when that damn wall blew. I wanted my own brother to have died in your place! The guilt is killing me. I know I have to forgive myself, but I don't know how."

He sobbed in earnest. His tears splashed down upon the hollow ground, leaving muddy rivers in the soil. When he had nothing left in him, he rubbed at his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Fred. I'm sorry I'm weak. Can you ever forgive me?"

A sudden gust of wind ruffled George's hair as though fingers were running through it. George recognized the feeling as that of his twin messing up his locks; he smiled.

"Goodbye, Freddie. I promise I'll make you proud." He stood and brushed the dirt off of his knees. Just before disapparating away he whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."


End file.
